


La Belle Fleur

by HighLadySolo



Series: Let's Visit Velaris [2]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Crack Crossover, Drabble, F/M, Female Frienship, Gen, Light Bondage, My First Smut, Please don’t take this seriously, There's A Mirror, VERY light bondage, aelin goes shopping again, aelin uses too much glitter, and an aelin kink, author has a wall sex kink and is too tall to make it happen so she writes about it, lingerie shop, rowan does NOT like glitter, rowan has a gold lingerie kink, these women are VERY comfortable with each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22909378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighLadySolo/pseuds/HighLadySolo
Summary: Aelin goes lingerie shopping with Mor and Lysandra, and Rowan will *eventually reap the benefits.*in chapter 2, we are not drawing this out, folks.  This is smut for the sake of smut, with a little humor thrown in the mix.
Relationships: Aedion Ashryver/Lysandra, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien & Rowan Whitethorn
Series: Let's Visit Velaris [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646632
Comments: 2
Kudos: 69





	1. Choose my Chains

**Author's Note:**

> We will earn the rating next chapter, but for now enjoy the fun shopping montage and female friendship.
> 
> Thanks to skyeryder01 for editing and sending excessive amounts of lingerie photos for inspiration.
> 
> ~These characters belong to Sarah J. Maas, no infringement intended.

Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius wandered aimlessly throughout the streets of Velaris, buying snacks and trinkets. And the occasional pair of shoes. 

Everyone else was off doing other things, so Aelin was out enjoying the day. She’d found an apologetic note on the pillow beside her when she woke well into the morning. Rowan, it seemed, had gone off into the mountains to hunt with the Illyrians. And given the lack of noise in the house, Manon and Dorian were off doing the gods-knew-what, and Aelin wasn’t particularly interested in what that might be. 

And since she’d been alone on waking for the first time in what felt like an age, Aelin had remained in bed, trying to satisfy herself with snacks and the stack of books she’d stashed inside her wyrdmarked leather bag. Unfortunately, she had been too restless to be still for long, so after a quick trip to the bathing room, and a slightly longer one searching through her closet, she had found herself out on the streets of Velaris. 

As she walked through the streets of the Rainbow, she took in the beautiful city, taking notes for additions she’d like to make to Orynth. The colors and scents wrapped around her, and a blissful lack of bowing and scraping made the city one of her new favorite places. Terrasen was her home, and she loved her home and her people, but Velaris was just so different and lovely and freeing. If anyone here saw her, they either didn’t know or didn’t care who she was, and if anyone had asked, she would have vehemently denied how happy it made her to just be away for a while. 

On the occasions that she remembered how long she’d avoided her home and her throne, a sharp flash of guilt shot through her, made even worse when she felt that she needed to escape. 

But Rowan and Lysandra and Aedion, and everyone else, had insisted there was no shame in needing a vacation, so here they were. 

And here she was, nursing a bottle of wine, and wandering through one of the most beautiful places she’d ever seen. 

And _there_ were Mor and Lysandra, arms linked and giggling as they ducked into a small shop with richly curtained windows and a small golden sign that read La Belle Fleur. Intrigued, Aelin followed the pair inside. 

What she found inside was not what she expected. 

Though, if she thought about it, it really should have been. 

The light inside the shop was bright and warm, with a small crystal chandelier casting tiny rainbows over the jewel toned fabrics draped over the walls and windows. Fabrics in every hue and texture she could imagine hung before her. Aelin grinned wickedly. 

The shop sold lingerie. 

Oh, Rowan was going to _kill_ her. 

But he might die first. 

Where to begin? 

Aelin could hear Mor and Lysandra, so she went to where they were eying racks of blood red and emerald green pieces that had been brought out by the pretty shop assistant. After she listened to them praise the work for a moment, she decided to butt in. 

“Those are nice, but I think gold is really my color,” Aelin interjected, and tossed her long golden hair over a shoulder as she sauntered forward, slipping her fingers over the exquisite fabrics. 

Lysandra rolled her eyes, and Mor laughed, then gestured at the shop girl who nodded. 

“Gold is so… royal,” Mor scoffed. She considered Aelin for a moment, spinning the glass of sparkling pink wine in her fingers. “Have you considered black?” 

“No black,” Aelin and Lysandra said together. The women looked at each other and grimaced, then laughed. 

The _other_ faerie queen had worn black. So, just, no. 

“Ah, yes,” Mor paled a bit under her tan, but brightened again almost instantly. “Well, what about turquoise to go with your eyes? Or maybe amethyst?” 

The shop employee returned pushing with one hand another rack, this one filled with varying shades of gold and as many fabrics and styles. In her other hand, the young woman carried another glass of the sparkling pink wine that both Mor and Lysandra sipped. 

“My name is Vix, my ladies, and I am here for you. Would you like to try the other colors as well?” Vix nodded toward Aelin as she handed her the wine. 

“She’ll try them all!” Mor demanded and drained her glass. 

Vix shuffled the three women back to their own dressing rooms, as they each had an armload of outfits to try on. Apparently, while they were struggling their way into their first ridiculous numbers, Vix had brought around a new bottle of the fabulous wine, filling each glass and dropped in a few berries for color. Aelin discovered her new drink on exiting the velvet-curtained dressing room, and took a sip while she spun on the slight platform in front of the full-length mirror. 

Mor came up behind her with her own glass in hand. She leaned forward, resting her chin on Aelin’s shoulder, and reached around to clink their glasses. Mor took in what Aelin wore for a moment. 

“Hmm. It’s lovely, but not…” Mor started, but trailed off. 

“It’s not strong enough,” Lysandra finished for her, exiting her own dressing room. 

Aelin looked down at herself, and rubbed her fingers over the long, silky hem of the deep blue nightgown. She spun again, enjoying the twirl of the nightgown, but agreeing with Lysandra. She needed something with more of a statement. 

Mor took her own spin before the mirror wearing something wine-colored with more straps than should exist on clothing that wasn’t armored, and Aelin had no idea how she’d gotten herself into the outfit without help. But the effect it had on Mor was… striking. Both Aelin and Lysandra nodded appreciatively at her when she raised a questioning eyebrow at them. 

Lysandra’s outfit was not what Aelin would have expected from the former courtesan. The entire outfit was made of… 

“Chains,” Lyandra said, nodding and gesturing to the delicate golden chains that barely covered her lithe form. “I decided a long time ago that I wouldn’t let the memories of… before take over. My body is _mine_ now, and I _choose_ this,” she said fiercely. Aelin and Mor both jumped on the platform with her and wrapped her in a hug. “Besides,” Lysandra continued wickedly, “I can’t wait to see Aedion’s reaction.” 

Aelin pretended to gag, but she was so happy for her friend and cousin finding each other that she felt her heart might burst. Until she actually did picture Aedion’s reaction. Then she did gag. 

After trying on a few more pieces without any success, Lysandra, in her expert knowledge, took over the choosing process. For Mor, she chose softer, more feminine pieces in varying shades of red. Mor agreed that, although the strappy bits had been exciting, she hadn’t enjoyed the process of getting in and out of it, and she decided that she rather liked separate pieces more than the gown style that Aelin seemed to favor. For Aelin, Lysandra sorted through varying colors, though Aelin still favored gold. Aelin giggled as she regaled the two other women with Rowan’s reaction to her borrowing Lysandra’s golden nightgown. 

“I still haven’t gotten that back,” Lysandra griped, giving Aelin a sideways glance. 

“And you probably won’t,” Aelin responded, shrugging, “not that you need it.” She flung a similar piece over Lysandra’s face, and laughed at the shriek that emanated from beneath the fabric, clinking glasses with Mor as they watched the shifter extricate herself from the garment. 

Lysandra’s expertise was helpful, but in the end, it was Mor who convinced Aelin to try something out of her comfort zone. Mor had gone in search of food and had returned instead with her arms draped with shimmering gold. The gold thread looked ready to fall apart at the slightest touch, but maybe that was the point. Shoving Aelin in her dressing room with the gown, because it was at least _shaped_ like a gown, even if it didn’t function as one, Mor said that Aelin should let her know if she needed help because this one was different. In her dressing room, Aelin found herself with the gown dangling from her fingertips, turning it this way and that, trying to figure out what the hell to do with the damned thing. She couldn’t tell which way was up or down. Carefully, she turned the piece until she recognized two pieces that resembled straps, and she slowly pulled the mesh and gold over her head, struggling to fit her arms through the awkwardly placed straps. 

“I’m not sure about this,” she said as she ducked through the curtain of her dressing room. Mor emerged from her own room, and Lysandra poked her head out of hers to watch while she changed. 

The front of the gown was too wide and Aelin was certain that if she looked closely, she would see that the width of the deep vee of the gown covered absolutely no part of her breasts at all, and the plunge was so deep that she was fairly certain the faint dusting of golden hair between her legs was visible. Perhaps some people would enjoy this look, but she certainly felt awkward and uncovered. 

A snort sounded behind her. 

“I’m sorry,” Mor said. “I should have come in to help you. It’s, ah, backwards.” Despite her snort, Mor didn’t laugh at her, instead looking at her rather concernedly. Mor marched over, slid her hands beneath the thin strips holding the gown on Aelin’s shoulder, and pushed down, so the mesh fabric beneath the main bodice of the gown pooled over her hips. Aelin grimaced, but allowed Mor to briskly twist the fabric around so the vee was on her back then helped pull the fabric up over her torso and arms. 

Now the neckline came much higher and was much less awkward. Mor went behind Aelin and rested her chin on Aelin’s shoulder, taking it in. 

“Yes!” she said. “But your breasts are all wrong.” She unceremoniously reached under Aelin’s arms to scoop Aelin’s breasts higher into the support of the garment. 

“That’s better,” Lysandra called, head still sticking out between the velvet curtains. “Do you see how that balanced out your silhouette?” 

Aelin did see, and she felt like a golden goddess. Mor’s adjustment had allowed the swell of her breasts and hips to show off the narrowness of her waist. She felt beautiful and sensual without feeling lewd or uncovered like she had when she’d worn it incorrectly. Sashaying her hips a bit brought out the shimmer of the fabric, and… 

Rowan was going to _die_. 

Lysandra finally came out, clad in an emerald silk slip, and joined Aelin before the mirror, together they danced and spun, until Mor joined them too. There wasn’t room for the three of them, but they didn’t care and danced together anyway, spinning and laughing, and then swearing when the wine nearly spilled. 

Between the three of them, Aelin, Lysandra, and Mor, tried on a veritable mountain of lingerie and bought at least half of it. All of them agreed that it was nice to try things on with feedback that didn’t end in the lingerie being either ripped off, or just ripped. 

Aelin felt pleasantly buzzed from the fun and the wine as she signed the bill and wrote down delivery instructions for her purchases; they would be delivered later that afternoon. So, she exited the shop with Mor and Lysandra, and the three went their separate ways. Lysandra headed back to the art district to check on Evangeline, and Mor headed toward Rita’s. Aelin felt content to simply wander about, making a few more minor purchases here and there, and stopping frequently for more food and wine. 


	2. Goddess in Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aelin's purchases arrive, and Rowan's going to die*.
> 
> *Metaphorically, of course. He does have that gold lingerie kink, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing smut, which is why it's on the shorter side. 
> 
> Thanks to skyeryder01 for reading and input.
> 
> These characters belong to Sarah J Maas, and no infringement is intended.

Aelin returned home from her shopping excursion and promptly left her clothes in the entryway, headed straight for the enormous bathing chamber. She dumped in an enormous amount of bath oils and salts and bubbly things, tied her hair up in a knot, donned a long, silky dressing gown, and went to fill a glass of wine while the tub filled. She returned and submerged herself in the scented heat of the tub, relishing its relief on her tired body. A brutal training session with Cassian the previous day was catching up to her. Eventually, she turned the water off and leaned her head back against the cool marble of the submerged tub.

The slamming of the door startled her awake. Rowan’s pine and snow scent filled the room before he entered, she looked up at him with a sultry stare as she sipped from her glass. Enough of her bubbles had disappeared during her nap that she saw his eyes darken when he looked down at her. Grinning up at him, she crossed her legs and flicked a few drops of water at him. He didn’t speak, but started shucking off his boots and then his weapons.

A very loud knock sounded at the door, and Rowan left to answer it.

Shit. Her lingerie.

Aelin squawked at him to wait as she vaulted herself out of the tub and dragged the silk dressing gown over her dripping, slightly oily body. Bare feet slipping a bit on the marble, she tried to race forward and beat him to the door. But Rowan, damn him, got there first on his long, muscled legs. He had just wrenched the door open and was glowering down at the young male faerie who had delivered her multitude of packages and bags.

“Nonono,” she sang, “I’ll take those!” Aelin ripped the small mountain of parcels from the male and yelled at Rowan to tip him as she raced back to deposit her purchases in her closet. Dumping them all in the farthest corner was all she had time to do before Rowan came barging in, brandishing a handful of papers at her.

“Aelin,” he started, but she interrupted.

“Rowan,” she said in the same serious tone.

He glowered down at her, and she simpered up at him.

He was having none of it.

“Did you really spend this much at some shop in Velaris?” He asked.

“Well, it was at a few shops,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“Aelin. It’s irresponsible to spend so much. We’re rebuilding after the war, and-“ 

She cut him off.

“Rowan. We _have_ rebuilt. The war is _over_. It’s all over. The Valg are gone. _She_ is gone. We can enjoy ourselves a bit.” She reached up to cup his tattooed cheek, tracing the black ink with her fingertips. HE closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

They stayed that way for several moments, until she leaned her body against his, and pressed her lips against his for a chaste kiss.

“I bought you a present,” she said, pulling away from him. “Want to see?” She was already walking into her closet, adding a little bit of bounce into her step.

His grunted response sounded somewhat affirmative, so she turned and winked at him as she shut the door behind her.

Inside, she raced to the back corner, rifling through bags and boxes until she found the one she wanted, lifting out its contents. Carefully, she pulled it on, desperately trying not to rip the delicate material, swearing when a seam caught on her hair. Honestly, she thought, she should’ve brought Mor to help her get the godsdamned thing on again. And she couldn’t ask Rowan for help, either. Growling and hissing her way through, she finally made it into the shimmering gossamer of the piece without any damage, and she paced back and forth in front of the full-length mirror, feeling like something was missing from her ensemble. She rummaged around in her leather satchel while she thought, pulling out her favorite wine and taking a long pull, straight from the bottle. The mirror reflected the gold threads that twisted over her body, giving her an idea.

When she finally made her way out of the closet, she found Rowan standing across their bedroom, gazing out the parted curtains. He had shed the rest of his clothing except his pants, and Aelin took a moment to drink in the sight of his muscled back and the dark ink of his tattoo. She padded toward him on bare feet, waiting for him to turn and see her. She knew he knew she was there. Fae warrior senses, and all that. Aelin watched him take a deep breath before he turned to face her.

If the strongest full-blooded male fae alive was capable of squawking like the hawk he was, Rowan did just that. His throat bobbed and his jaw clenched as he took her in.

Rowan growled and crossed the space between them in two short strides. His eyes burned into hers as he rested his hands on her shoulders, then slowly trailed them up.

Rowan’s hands threaded into the hair at her nape and tipped her head upward as he captured her lips in a kiss that she made just a little bit hotter with her flame. One hand dipped down to her waist as the other wrapped more securely around the back of her neck as he pulled her into him. He groaned into her mouth as she stood up on her toes and wrapped one leg around his own.

“I love you in gold,” he growled low in her ear as they broke apart. 

“I know,” she whispered. 

He rested his forehead against hers for a moment, before spinning her around and pulling her back against his as they faced the oval mirror in the corner.

The dress, if it could be called a dress, was made entirely of rows of woven gold thread and hit mid-thigh on the sides, dipping lower in the front and back, with a high neckline and nearly nonexistent back. Strategically placed stitching left little to the imagination, and Aelin had liberally dusted gold cosmetics along her collarbones, eyelids, lips, and cheekbones. 

She felt like a goddess, and Rowan was staring at her in the mirror like she was one, too.

His large hands wrapped around her hipbones, pulling her backwards into him, and she felt his hard length press into her backside. She swallowed and tried to turn to him, but his hands held her in place. One of his large hands pressed against her lower abdomen, holding her against him, while the other slowly traced the swirling patterns of the golden stitching down over her collarbone and between her breasts. Her back arched into him as his fingers traced lower, stopping just before the apex of her thighs. 

She ground her ass against his erection, and he growled in her ear.

“Wait.” 

She bared her teeth at him in the mirror but did as he said. 

For what felt like an eternity, he stayed there, drinking in the sight of her and trailing his fingers in random paths over her skin. 

Slowly, too slowly, he pressed his lips to the spot beneath her ear, tracing a path down to the scars of his claiming marks where her neck and shoulder met. He bit down on the marks and she gasped, arching further against him.

He huffed a laugh into her ear as his fingers traced back upward, circling around her breasts. She refused to whimper or beg, and he knew that she would, taking his time teasing her before finally, _finally_ finding one peaked nipple through a gap in the threads of her gown. A moan escaped her lips, and Rowan’s found the claiming marks again, his tongue tracing over the faint silvery scar he’d given her. His thumb flicked over her nipple, while his other hand dipped slightly lower, but still not where she wanted him. Baring her teeth at him again, she leaned forward to pull her gown up, but his hands pressed into her upper arms, stopping her.

Rowan pushed her toward the bed and spun her around to face him before stepping close enough that the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed. He kissed her, hard, and pushed her backward so she fell onto the plush mattress. Rowan’s large body followed hers, but he braced himself on his hands above her.

And growled.

Some primal part of her reacted, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, gold gown be damned.

But he stopped her, pushing her knees back down so her heels rested on the edge of the bed. He grinned down at her and finally dipped his fingers below the hem of the gown. 

Rowan ground his lips into hers when he felt how wet she was for him and traced the pad of a finger over her clit. Aelin felt her hips buck against his hand, and he growled at her to be still.

She would do no such thing. She ground her hips against his hand, using her body to tell him what she wanted.

Thankfully, he obliged, pressing his thumb against her clit as he pushed one finger into her. Slowly, he began pumping his finger in and out of her, and she pushed against him wanting _more_. 

“Patience, majesty,” he whispered in her ear.

She swore viciously at him and wrapped her legs around him once more, rocking herself against him. Anything for more friction.

Rowan raised up higher but added a second finger inside her while he traced a pattern over her clit. Another moan escaped her as his mouth found her nipple and bit down, then his tongue swirled, erasing the small hurt.

Her hips canted in rhythm with his fingers as his lips found her other nipple, and she found herself close to release when he…

Stopped.

“What,” he asked, “is in your hand?”

“What?” She had forgotten. “Oh. Nothing.” She tossed the small scrap of cloth into a corner and promptly forgot about its existence. 

Aelin used every ounce of strength she possessed to flip Rowan on his back, and she suspected he’d let her do so. But she didn’t particularly care.

As her mouth claimed his, she reached between them and undid the buttons on his pants as deftly as she could while grinding herself against him. He growled against her lips when she wrapped her hand around him, and guided him into her, slowly sinking down on the length of him. She’d had enough waiting. Using his hands for balance, she rocked her hips against his, feeling the delicious friction when he bucked his hips up as she pushed down. 

She gasped his name and felt his hand reach between them to trace circles against her swollen clit. Aelin felt herself clenching around him as a wave of pleasure crashed over her. Pressing her face into his neck, she bit down on her claiming marks, and he growled her name as they both found their pleasure.

Aelin collapsed onto his chest, feeling the seams of the embroidered gown press into her skin. Rowan kissed her before gently rolling them to the side to face each other on the bed. He traced his fingertips over her eyelids and cheekbones, and she leaned into his touch, almost purring with pleasure at just being able to be with him like this. Whenever she wanted. 

“Aelin,” he said, “What the hell?” He held his hands in front of her face.

The moment was broken when she looked up at him and realized he was covered in sparkling gold powder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But what was in Aelin's hand?
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Paint Me Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Rowan is not amused at Aelin's overuse of cosmetics, and where he finds his...present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing smut without the aid of alcohol (last chapter was my first time writing it, period...with lots of wine), so do bear with me. I hope to get better over time.
> 
> Thanks, as always, to my best friend and betareader for the encouragement. Skyeryder01 is the best.
> 
> Once again, these characters belong to SJM, I just wanted them to have some silliness. No infringement intended.

“Aelin. What the hell?” Rowan held his hands up in front of his queen’s face. They were covered in a layer of the shimmering gold powder she’d dusted over herself to go with the gold gown she’d worn. For him. 

Aelin looked up at him and blinked, and then her lips clamped together, trying to stave off laughter. She raised her own hand and brushed it over his cheek and lips, and her fingertips came away covered in gold.

Rowan extricated himself from the bed before she could laugh and went into the bathing room, steeling himself before peering at himself in the mirror. Gold streaked across his face and torso, and he grimaced at the reflection. He saw Aelin sidle up behind him, and met her eyes in the mirror, willing her to laugh. 

“It’s very artistic,” Aelin said before she lost it. Great belly laughs had her doubling over and wheezing. 

Glaring at his mate the whole time, Rowan crossed to the enormous tub, turned on the tap, and plunged his face beneath the jet of water. Even with the water coursing over his ears, he could still hear her loud laughter and fully expected her to be in tears soon. When he felt that his face was clean, Rowan blindly reached until he found a washcloth near the tub and scrubbed until the thing had turned gold. 

His queen was not one to do things by halves, he knew, but gods above, how much gold powder had she used? 

Grumbling about overdramatic fire breathing queens, Rowan searched for a towel, and when he found one, rubbed his body dry without looking to see if the gold powder was gone. When he emerged from beneath the towel, he found Aelin prowling back into the bathing room with one hand behind her back and a smirk on her lips. She still wore the golden gown and gods above it did things to him. 

The gold streaks around her eyes did the exact opposite. 

Rowan wrapped the towel around his waist and was rather pleased to see the hint of a pout cross Aelin’s lips. She leaned lazily against the door frame with her hands behind her back, watching him. 

“I didn’t show you your present,” she purred. 

Rowan quirked an eyebrow. 

“Isn’t that my present?” He gestured toward the gown she still wore and felt his heart stop. Then start. Then stop again. Just as it had when she’d first walked out of the closet in it. The predatory part of his brain took over, and Rowan stalked over to where she still leaned against the door frame. He towered over her as he wrapped his hands around her waist and guided her backward into their bedchamber. A slight gasp left her as he pushed her against the wall and braced his hands on either side of her. 

“What,” he said, nipping at her ear, “is my present?” 

Her scent and sharp intake of breath were enough encouragement that he slowly trailed his mouth down her neck and to her collarbone where - 

The remnants of the gold powder still dusted her delicate collarbones. And as much as he wanted to take her there, against the wall, he resisted. Sliding his fingers beneath the straps of the gold dress, he pushed it off her shoulders, following its path with his mouth, still avoiding the damned gold powder. When his mouth met her belly button, he flicked his tongue out and heard her groan in response. The gown caught in a pool of gold around her hips, and Rowan braced one hand against her belly, holding her in place against the wall, as he knelt before his queen and yanked the gown to the floor. 

Pressing small, biting kisses to her inner thighs, Rowan used his free hand to trace over her core and grunted in satisfaction at the heat and wetness he encountered there. 

He heard her breathe his name and growled against her as he traced a finger over her again. Aelin said his name again, this time louder. She was starting to push against him, so to stop her, he barely licked into her, using a phantom icy wind to keep her in place. Rowan felt her skin pebble as the chill hit her, and he rubbed the warmth of his face over her thigh. 

Her angry fieriness muttered something decidedly unqueenly about how he should return to what he was doing, so Rowan did no such thing. He returned to teasing her with biting kisses and strokes of his tongue, everywhere but there, where she wanted him to go. Rowan wanted to draw out her pleasure and show him just how much he had loved the golden gown she’d gotten just for him. He’d been so overtaken by the sight of her that their previous coupling had progressed faster than he’d wanted, but gods just seeing her had broken and remade him in the same breath. 

Aelin’s faint whimper of his name brought his mind back to the task at hand, or tongue, as it were, and he finally, very slowly, pressed his tongue between her folds and licked up. His mouth found her clit, and he pulled it into his mouth, relishing her hiss of pleasure and the feel of her knees going slack against the restraint of his wind. 

No longer in the mood for teasing her, Rowan drew his tongue in circles over her clit as he traced two fingers over her entrance, feeling the slick heat of her. Then he plunged those fingers into her, filling her, and crooked his fingers, rubbing that sensitive spot inside her. 

Aelin was growling at him now, her teeth bared as she writhed against him. Rowan felt the heat building inside her as me moved his mouth faster over her, in rhythm with his flexing fingers inside her. She came hard and fast on his mouth and would have collapsed into a quivering heap had he not stood with the lightning speed of the Fae, and caught her beneath the arms before she fell. 

His queen pulled his face to hers as he carried her to their bed, still in shambles from their last round of love-making. He deposited her right in the center, and used small shields of hardened air over her wrists and ankles to keep her in place. He grinned at her as he stepped away from her, out her line of sight, and went to retrieve what she’d tossed away earlier. 

When he found it, Rowan blinked a few times in surprise at the golden scrap of fabric that matched her gown. He blinked again. 

Was _he_ supposed to wear _this_? Listening to Aelin shift against his restraints, he turned the bit of fabric over in his hands. A pocket of fabric vaguely reminded him of the shape of his undershorts, but there was so much less of this. It was just…strings and… a triangle. 

But what his queen wanted, she got, so Rowan wrangled himself into the scrap. A burst of male pride rippled through him when he saw the fabric straining, and failing, to cover his erection. 

Then he stalked back into Aelin’s view. He watched as her face lit up and her eyes darkened. 

And then she burst into laughter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. Golden Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, we get our conclusion. Rowan pouts about his "present" and Aelin makes him feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The same as always really. Thanks, skyeryder01, and these are SJM's characters, no infringement intended.

Mostly for show, Aelin struggled against the restraints of hard air Rowan had summoned around her wrists and ankles. She tried to turn and see where he’d gone, but the room was big enough that, although she could still hear him, she couldn’t see him. A faint rustling sounded near where she’d last seen him, and Aelin tried again to turn enough to see what he was doing. 

Not that she was frightened, or even apprehensive. She was up for almost anything with Rowan and had thoroughly enjoyed all the new pleasures he’d introduced her to. She was just… curious. 

What the rutting hell was taking him so long? 

She’d had her orgasm; now it was his turn. 

She licked her lips in anticipation. 

Finally, _finally_ , Aelin heard her mate’s footsteps as he returned to where she lay on the bed. As usual, when she saw him naked, she paused to take in his large… everything. 

Except he wasn’t naked. 

Oh, gods. 

He was wearing the “present” she’d bought for him as a _joke_. Oh, gods. 

He looked vaguely confused as he looked down at himself and back up at her, quirking one silver eyebrow. 

Aelin tried very, very hard not to laugh. 

And she failed miserably. 

If Rowan had been in his hawk form, he would have puffed his feathers in consternation and flown off with a screech. As he was not in his hawk form, he glared at her, giving her one of those silent beratings he so loved. 

_If you were just going to laugh, why did you buy this thing_? he seemed to say. 

She batted her lashes at him as if to say she was sorry. 

But she wasn’t. 

Even if it was ridiculous and silly, he looked damn good. And the view got even better when he turned on a heel and stalked off, pretending to be angry with her. 

Her mouth watered at the sight of his tight, perfectly formed ass, bisected with a thin gold line. She couldn’t decide whether she should laugh or beg for forgiveness as he left the room, slamming the door behind him. 

Even if he was pretending to be angry with her, Aelin knew he was playing, because he loosened her restraints enough that she could wriggle her way free. 

So, she did just that, padding naked into the outer rooms of their suite, searching for Rowan until she found him looking out a window onto Velaris. 

“You might stop a few hearts in that if the ladies of Velaris look up here,” she drawled, snaking her arms around his waist. 

He grunted in response. 

He was still pretending to be upset, then. She could play, too. 

Remember his teasing of her, Aelin slowly traced her fingers with feather-light strokes over his lower abdomen and the tops of his thighs. 

“Is the big, bad, fae warrior’s manhood feeling threatened?” She said in a sing-song voice. 

He muttered something about his manhood that she chose not to hear, and she continued teasing him, slowly edging closer to the velvet-wrapped steel that was not-so-threatened manhood. 

“Don’t you _like_ your present?” She pouted. 

“Actually, it’s rather comfortable,” he said, turning to glare down at her over his shoulder. 

Surprised, Aelin paused for a moment, and then her fingers resumed their path as he huffed a laugh at her. 

In one lightning-fast movement, she spun him around and pushed his back against the window, standing on her toes to press a searing kiss to his lips. Then she gave him a wicked grin as she knelt before him, slowly hooking her fingers beneath the bands on his lean hips and tugging downward, slowly revealing the proud length of him. Aelin stared up at him as she trailed her fingers up and down his muscled legs, before finally running a hand down the length of his cock and listening to him purr in satisfaction. 

With what she hoped was agonizing slowness, she wrapped her fingers over the base of his cook and flicked her tongue over his broad head. His fingers twisted in her hair as she licked down his shaft using just the tip of her tongue. He growled in frustration, muttering about queens being fucking teases, and she huffed a laugh as she took him into her mouth. 

His body shifted, and she knew him well enough to know that he'd closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the still open window, pushing his hips slightly forward to give her easier access. Working her lips up and down as she rocked her tongue on the underside of his cock, Aelin moved her free hand to gently squeeze his balls as her other hand worked up and down in tandem with her mouth, eliciting a faint groan from Rowan. Lazily she looked up to meet his pine green eyes, and she smiled around him at the loom on his face. 

He still looked at her like she was a goddess; like he was the one worshipping her. even when she was the one on her knees. 

As she maintained eye contact, Aelin took all of him into her mouth, and she watched his eyes roll back when he felt the back of her throat. Sucking harder and increasing her tempo made filthy sounds, and he groaned as she hummed around him. 

“Aelin." His hand fisted in her hair, pulling against her scalp. 

She quirked an eyebrow but didn't stop. He growled her name and pulled harder on her hair. 

With tantalizing slowness. she slowly pulled back and released his cock with one final suck of his head and a flick of her tongue. In one of those blazingly fast movements, Rowan lifted her by her shoulders and had her braced against a wall again, devouring her mouth with his own. Aelin wrapped her legs around him, gripping his shoulders, and gasping his name as he entered her swiftly. 

Rowan growled at the fire she knew now burned in her turquoise eyes, telling him through their bond 

_Harder._

 _Faster._

He obliged, and Aelin felt her soul leave her body as she shuddered around him, tipping her head back and baring her throat to him. She came hard and fast, like the way he was fucking her. 

He kept snapping his hips into hers, and she felt another wave starting to crash over her at the heated sensation of being filled with him. 

_Come with me_ , she seemed to say. 

He leaned forward enough to press an open-mouthed, biting kiss into her neck, and the slight change in angle was enough to send them both crashing over the edge. 

Later, when they were tangled together in the sheets, Aelin smirked up at him. 

“I suppose I owe Lysandra fifty gold coins,” she sighed as she traced a finger over the tattoo crossing his pectoral. 

“Oh?” Rowan said, not particularly concerned with what she was saying as her fingers worked their way up over his chest and neck and curled into his silver hair. 

“Yes,” she nodded very seriously. “She bet me that not only would you wear your present, but that you’d like it.” 

And then she was up, ripping the sheet off him, and running away, shrieking with laughter as he tore after her, pretending to snarl and snapping his teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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